


siege is trapped

by Olympus



Series: in which: [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Rape, Trauma, unsteady writing style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olympus/pseuds/Olympus
Summary: Siege didn’t want to take a humanoid form in the first place. He certainly didn’t want to walk alongside the mortal’s either, but he does whatever his sister does. However, eventually he begins to wonder if the Gods were ever truly meant to exist with the mortals; if he, God of dark, was meant to be what they asked of him.
Series: in which: [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543066





	siege is trapped

**Author's Note:**

> this is very very very confusing. there is a lot to it that will most likely not make sense, so, sorry! if something needs to be cleared up (like, if you want to know about something), feel free to ask!

Siege’s world consisted of the halls of Palace Timoris and nothing more. There were times that he forgot what sunlight looked like. Those times were when Siege wished that he was truly able to die, to escape from the prison that he had been put in. 

What made matters worse was that he never really saw his captor. At most, he remembered warm brown eyes and a promise.  
“When this is all done, you’ll be the patron god of Alaric.”

The palace had been finished for a century, taking the lives of thousands of Ipos to build it. Alaric had been officially founded right after, marking the start of a new era. At last there was somewhere in the world united under one front, under a man and his partner who were both capable. 

Now, if only Siege could tell the public of what they truly were. 

Instead, he was stuck wandering the halls of the Maze-Palace, no idea of where he really was. However, occasionally when he was settled down in an empty room, ready for a night of dreamless sleep, he would feel a burn.

This burn was one deepfelt. It started in his heart and traveled to the tips of his hands and feet, incinerating any emotions and sensations along the way. It was these times when his heartbeat stopped, and he remembered who he was. 

Siege, lord of the dark, god of those who have been pushed to the ground. 

The burning would soon stop, leaving the room he lay in just as lifeless as before. These times were few between usually, but for the last few days (or at least, the periods that Siege designated as days) they had become almost a daily occurrence. 

This time, it was accompanied by the sound of running down the hallways. The solid oak door leading to where Siege rested was blown open, a figure standing in the doorway.

Siege’s heart leapt into his throat as he recognized who It was—the man who had made the promise oh so long ago, the man who turned his back on a god.

However, the god of the dark had spent too much time alone with his own thoughts to feel any anger. 

The light (magic, of course) flickered on. Deep, dark blue skin, those warm eyes, horns curled back over his head, windows of a pulsing light within the black keratin. Marcus Siege, the founder of Alaric, the creator of modern magic. 

“There you are, Siege. I have no idea how long it’s been since—” A shiver, a shudder ran through the man’s body, and if not for the tremendous strength he clearly held, he would have crumpled to the ground. 

“I’m trying to free you, but he, he’s—” another shudder, this time more powerful. 

Marcus’ posture shifted as if someone else was in charge of his body. His eyes flashed a brilliant blue that rendered Siege immobile. 

Diverge, king of the gods, scourge of Splinter.

Siege’s own father. A god who was as corrupt as they came, who had no regard for anything his sister had created. 

But as fast as the blue had come, it disappeared. Marcus nearly collapsed once more; this time, Siege rushed forward to support him. Brown eyes opened again, pained. 

“He has taken over my country, my life, my everything… but I’m so close to throwing him out. There are runes scattered around the palace, my creation, but you will know what they are. If, no, when, you complete them, you’ll be freed, and I will finally die. Your father—”

Marcus fell forward, too sudden for Siege to catch him. He lay on the floor, writhing in pain Siege had only felt in his father’s presence, choking on nothing. 

But it stopped. The king sat up, eyes dim as whatever substance in his horns swirled sluggishly. 

“He’s getting stronger, my runes… they’re fading against his power for now—Siege, please do what you can, Alaric rests on your shoulders…”

He managed to stand, unsteady. He gazed into Siege’s eyes, undeterred and steadfast in his decision to what he could against the king of the gods. 

“One day, a king who is my chosen will grace these halls, and fix what mistakes will pass down my line. It may be a decade, it may be thousands of years, but they will come. I ask of you one thing, before you’re freed.”

Siege, held his breath. He had said no words within the time he had been trapped in the palace, and had no idea if he could. So, instead, he listened.

“When they come, ask Elysian for the gauntlet. Splinter will eventually be freed, Siege, or I die in vain.”

The next few moments were tense. Siege hesitantly nodded, and unlike how Marcus had run in before, he simply disappeared. The room was dark once again, and if not for the smear of a dark blue blood that stained the stone of the floor, Siege would have thought he hallucinated. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

But now, as he looked closer at the smear, something was engraved into the stone as well. 

A rune.

And Siege started what Marcus had begun, hoping that for once he had made a choice to benefit all. 

Siege had seen sunlight for the first time in a century 3 years after he had started the task to finish the runes. When he finally hunted down the last one, it glowed the same bright blue as Diverge’s eyes, and it took a day for Siege to complete the lines. 

When he did, the first thing he noticed was a deep rumble that originated in the epicenter of the Maze-Palace, miles from where Siege stood now. The rumble increased in magnitude as it traveled out. 

Somewhere, deep inside the palace, there a wretched scream. It was the scream of something inhuman, something that didn’t belong where it was. It ripped through the walls, the corridors, every room in the palace—hitting every living thing deep within its core.  
Perhaps if Siege had been mortal it would have affected him as well. Instead, he just hears it and waits, knowing what comes next. 

The rune in front of him exploded in a burst of white light (not that unsettling blue) and obscured his vision painfully. Then, within the same moment, it was gone.

There—the burn. The very one he hadn’t felt in the three years since he met with Marcus, it was consuming him. 

As before, it started in his heart, traveling out through his appendages, taking root in every fiber of his being. This time, however, the feeling didn’t fade. 

It felt natural: he was finally a god again. If someone else were to see him at that moment, they would have seen a physical change.

Dim brown eyes growing bright once more, dark skin that used to have an unhealthy pallor suddenly healthy and glowing. If the light had been on, it would be seen that he no longer had a shadow, but that wasn’t important. 

Siege breathed in a breath that wasn’t tainted with powerlessness, and knew he was free. 

It was spring when Siege felt a pull. This pull he had only felt once before, and immediately he was sent into a panic. 

In Lairnx, magic works through ways that are yet unknown. What is known, however, is that names have power.

Siege is one such name, and the line that bears it is the line that can utilize the power of the god that bears it as well. For centuries, the god had been enslaved in Palace Timoris by the will of Marcus Siege, and it had been only through a miracle that he had escaped.

What most do not know, however, is that Marcus Siege was not the one to enslave his god, nor did he use the race of Ipos as a means to an end. In reality, the king held a secret for far too long, a secret that festered and created a wound that could not be healed. That wound was infected, and Diverge took over Marcus Siege’s body, becoming the King Who Could Have Been. 

It was only the knowledge that Diverge no longer had power over that family line that kept Siege at bay. 

So, he waited, wondering that maybe, just maybe, what Marcus had asked of him all those years was finally coming to pass. 

Siege heard rumors of someone with the likeness of Marcus Siege entering Alaric. These were rumors passed around in the underground of Timoris, the streets lined with vendors who would tell their customers anything, clubs teeming with secrets passed from one to another. 

This is what motivated Siege to finally hunt down Elysian, and ask for the gauntlet. It took a year or so, but he knew he had time. 

It was deep in the walled city of Bazat that Siege found her, sitting on the tombstone of a grave. It looked to be very old, and Siege had wondered if she perhaps knew who lay beneath.

She was the first to speak. “It’s been a long time, Siege. I thought you might still be wandering the halls of that cursed palace.” She didn’t turn to face him, her dark hair eerily still despite the windy evening. It looked like it was going to rain.

“I’ve been enjoying anonymity. Since then, there are no surviving documents of what I might look like. Rise destroyed everything.”

Elysian finally looked at him, tilting her head in an odd way. “She was always a good sister. Why are you here?” Her voice came to Siege as if it was far away. 

“I was sent by Marcus.”

Her movements were jagged as she hopped down from the stone. She was shorter than Siege remembered, but past memories always seem to lie. Her eyes were the same wine-red, however, but in an instant Siege knew that she had gone through much more than words can describe. 

She raised her face to the heavens as if waiting for it to fall and smother her. “I have waited years for someone to say that. He sends you…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, instead turning fully to Siege, spreading her hands wide. She still had her face lifted. 

As quickly as she could, Elysian clapped her hands together, a shimmering image of something appearing as she opened her hands into a bowl. The image depicted a silver gauntlet, thin and ornate. The fingers tapered into claws to be used as a weapon. There was a single stone embedded into the palm—blood red, pulsing like it were alive. 

There was silence as Elysian focused, her brow furrowing in concentration, moving her head to face the image she was producing. Slowly, it began to solidify. 

Within the minute the goddess of death held the gauntlet in her hands. She gazed at it quietly, holding the weapon with a silent reverence. 

“I will not forgive you if she ends up in the wrong hands, Siege Sparrow.” Elysian met Siege’s eyes, and for a single second he felt what she had—the pain, the lack of power, the overwhelming dread. 

And he understood. This was not something that she could talk about, least of all with him, but she deserved someone to share her pain with. Siege would gladly handle this burden alongside his cousin. 

Elysian seemed pleased about his silent understanding, holding out the silver weapon. Siege reached for it, gently taking hold the metal. As soon as he touched it there was a burning sensation—similar to the one that meant the return of Siege’s powers, and once again he was reminded that all he had done will lead to the end of Diverge.

So he took the gauntlet, ignoring the burn that faded into buzzing as he handled it. He slid into the bag he had taken with him, careful of the sharp edges, not wanting to tear anything. He may be a god, but he was still relatively poor.

“She likes you,” Elysian murmured, eyes bright. “I trust you.” 

Siege nodded at her before he left.

The first time the god met Marcellus Siege, he was taken aback at just how much the boy looked like Marcus. They shared the same eyes, skin, though whereas Marcus’s horns pulsed with a dark blue light, Marcellus’ was a bright crimson. 

But he was reminded that yes, Marcellus was still a boy. He had yet to learn about the world, and Siege could not take it upon himself to give this child the gauntlet. He may turn out to be the chosen king, yes, but for now Siege would not force that destiny upon him. 

So Siege promised to meet him at a later date. 

This later date happened to be 3 years later. Siege had been travelling during this time, the gauntlet at his side, experiencing all that Siege did as well. 

He had heard rumors of 4 people—teens, really, taking down the rogue god Sharp only a few months after Siege had met with Marcellus. It was also right about then that he heard rumors of a ritual performed that hadn’t been used in thousands of years, as well as the revitalization of the Descended throne. 

That was when Siege knew that Marcellus was the king, his king. The king to do what Siege had worked for centuries. 

What he did not expect, however, was a young adult on the verge of suicide.

It was then he also decided to hold off on the gift of the gauntlet, deciding to help Marcellus. To help, he fed the future king ideas.

Form a hierarchy. Find others like him, others that are interested in the world, hoping to reinvent it even. The process was slow, but Siege was patient. Marcellus began to open up and see Lairnx for the first time—he saw what it could be.

The first two members, Scarlett and Eli, trusted Marcellus immediately, knowing what he could become. 

So the gauntlet become Marcellus’, and he was realized as a king. 

“Siege… we share a name. Why is that?” His eyes were open, yet not trusting in any way. 

Siege found this difficult to answer for some reason. “I can’t say I really know. Maybe it was chance, maybe it was fate.”

Marcellus did not find this answer satisfying, eyes narrowing and piercing the god, and Siege for once saw the difference between Marcus and his descendant. 

This boy (as he may be legally an adult, but Siege was a god) had the capacity for ruthlessness that Marcus lacked. Somewhere deep inside him there was a darkness, and Siege found himself wanting to feed it. He immediately banished that thought.

“If you so wish, find Isle Siege, read what your… ancestors have left behind. You’ll find a way to summon me, as well.” 

The boy studied Siege for a second, calculating and somewhat cruel. “You seem to be knowledgeable. I will contact you for more information later. For now… take care.” His words were not careful, but rather patronizing in how they were delivered. 

Siege left without another word. He cursed himself for giving Marcellus the tools to do anything he wished, but at the same time he wanted to see what was so special about him—what made Marcus, the King Who Could Have Been, choose this boy. 

So far, he only had a small idea, and somewhere in the back of his mind something awoke and whispered,

Lyre

Life continued as before for Siege after that. He kept tabs on the new king, of course, but for a while it looked like he shouldn’t have been concerned after all.

The first public appearance the king has was a huge event, covered by news companies from all across the world, each vying for a word from him.

Marcellus Siege stood like a king. The gauntlet shimmered upon his left hand, the sun obscuring the fine details of the engravings. He wore the royal circlet of the Siege family—it curled artfully around his horns, gems and metal creating something eerily inhuman and beautiful.

Each question answered was carefully considered and answered, but there was one that threw him off. 

“What is your relationship with Belle Jeong and Enzo Shear of the Council of Ascended?”

Immediately, Marcellus shut off, expression dark and closed. “No answer.” 

The reporters latched onto this immediately, but the king held up a hand, signaling that this questioning was over.

He gave a short, prepared speech, happily received by the roaring crowd. The king was gladly accepted—Alaric had been without the Siege family for far too long. 

This marked the end of the event for the public. The hierarchy had stood at attention behind their king, and as Marcellus retreated, Siege saw see Scarlett reach over to him, a hand offered to calm. Siege saw Marcellus smile. 

Siege decided to visit his sister. For a time before names and a humanoid body had been given to the pair, they had been two sides of the same coin. 

Dark and light, energy and abyss, black and white. 

Siege used to wonder what it would have been like to live as a mortal, Rise at his side, the world at their fingertips.

Those thoughts were gone. They had disappeared in the corridors of the Maze-Palace, replaced with nothing. Siege felt relatively empty without wonder.

But these moments he spent with Rise were special, and he wished he could smile once again as they sipped tea and shared stories with one another. 

“My daughter just turned 5,” the goddess whispered to him, eyes soft. “I’m so proud of her… she’s going to be just like her father.” 

Siege looked gently at her. “How old is Liolya now?” From what he remembered, that girl had been another daughter of Rise’s, destined for greatness as all her children were. 

But Rise did not have the reaction he thought. Her hand shook suddenly, tea spilling. “I-I lost track of her for a week. When I found her, she was gone, Siege… they took my baby girl a few months ago, killed her for being my child.”

There was silence. Siege remembered what she had been like—the golden hair of Rise, eyes that reflected the sky. But short lives were what the demigods had, tainted by pain and hardship as they were hunted. 

“Rise,” Siege started, voice gentle. “Do you know what happened?”

The goddess’ eyes were blank and unseeing at this point. “No, I couldn’t find anyone, Siege, anyone. I tried to find who did this to my daughter, to send them straight to Realm, but all traces were gone…”

This is the answer that steeled Siege into his decision. He stood, grasping his sister’s hands, feeling something strong for the first time since Elysian. 

“I will find out the truth, Rise. We will bear this pain together.”

Siege couldn’t ignore Marcellus’ summons. This was quite literal, as the longer he avoided it, the more intense of a migraine he would get. At this point, he had held it off long enough. 

Using the pain in his head to guide him, Siege was pulled across a long distance, though he knew it was in the vicinity of Alaric. 

He landed in a room that wasn’t bare in the slightest; instead, shelves reaching towards the ceiling encircled him, catwalks providing paths to the highest shelf. But every piece of furniture or path in the library led to one thing: a loft-like structure with an enormous window looking out into a forest. In the middle of the loft there was a single desk, piled with books and old papers, a chair that could dwarf any person behind it. 

Siege turned away from that when he heard someone clear their throat. There, in a chair across from where he landed was Marcellus, looking comfortable with a book on his lap.

“I figured I needed to try this ritual eventually. Magic is amazing, you know?”

Siege started when he recognized symbols that were carved into the hard material of the king’s horns, runes that the god remembered as Marcus’ creation

It seemed the boy had been busy.

“I’ve been able to do so many things I never would have even thought of before, and now, with a twist of my hand, it’s done.” He demonstrated, holding out his hand. He snapped his fingers, and then in the air in front of Marcus was a hummingbird. It floated for a seconds, obviously not knowing where it was, or probably what it was. With another snap, it was Unmade.

Siege was astounded—creation magic on that level for someone his age was unheard of. At once, he understood why Marcus had chosen this boy: he was his heir in all ways. 

Marcellus laughed at the look on Siege’s face. 

“Hey, in all honesty it took me a while to understand what I needed to do. But these books,” he paused and made a sweeping hand gesture to the shelves around him. “These books contain everything I could ever need to know. And for that, I thank you.”

Marcellus stood and beckoned Siege over, walking up a set of stairs leading to the desk. Marcus’ desk. 

Following the king, Siege let his hand rest on the banister of the stairs, admiring the fine workmanship. This was made not by the Ipos, Siege knew, but by Ankh. He idly wondered what had become of the Queen. 

Marcellus had grabbed something while the god studied the wood, handing it to Siege. 

On the page were words to a sentence in another language, one that Siege hadn’t seen in years—the language of the gods, before Splinter gave them mortal name and a bodily form.

He read it out loud. 

“By the god Diverge, on this day Marcus Siege / carries the secret of the true demise of splinter / how I thrust her into the space between worlds / and sunk Contraria Tellus into the sea / and gave Cygnus a cursed half-life.” 

Siege at once knew what it meant. The only way a god is able to keep a secret is by telling one other, usually a mortal. In this case, he tricked Marcus, telling him in the Old language, forcing him to pass that secret down to his ancestors. 

Marcellus stared at the page, a strange look on his face. “My clearest memory is my grandmother telling me this, though it was in that strange language.” He looked up at Siege. “This changes my plans.”

The god tilted his head, looking more childish than anything. “Plans?”

The king went around the desk to sit in that huge chair. “I have contacted the goddess Ellis recently—” 

Siege sharply inhaled at that. Ellis was one of the more temperamental gods, her domains over all that ails mortal earth affecting her in multiple ways. She was a dangerous being to deal with, and Siege could only hope that Marcellus truly knew what he was doing, that he wasn’t being led astray.

Marcellus looked at Siege with amusement. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I have her wrapped around my finger right now, because her boytoy is loyal to only me.” He smirked and continued. 

“She is relinquishing control of Lyre over to my empire, and I plan to fully unveil the country once again after I find the slumbering goddess.. speaking of, do you know her name?” He looked expectantly at the god that stood across from him. 

“Jackdaw,” Siege sighed, “my other sister.”

Siege was given the option to either accompany the king to the first meeting with Ellis (most likely as a show of strength), or to come with him during the quest to find Jackdaw. Not wishing to see that woman again, he chose the option that probably wouldn’t end in blood. 

Marcellus was disappointed by that answer but shrugged it off. “Suit yourself. I believe the Hierarchy should be enough of a threat for now, but…” he stopped, thinking. “The boy will come with us. I’ll prepare a plan for if Ellis doesn’t follow through.” 

He smiled, and Siege was a little sickened by what he knew the plan would be. The fact that the king was ready to sacrifice someone that was supposedly loyal to him was cruel in a way that was hard to believe. 

Siege didn’t speak. Instead, he looked Marcellus in the eye before exiting the room. There was an odd look on the boy’s face, as if Siege’s reaction wasn’t what he had expected. 

Walking the long way to the room he had been given, Siege’s thoughts wandered. 

It was common thought in Lairnx that the gods were beings above any moral thought or law, and Siege supposed that for a time, they were. 

But there was something about living in the mortal world for as long as he had that just changed a person. It was impossible to not sympathize with these beings who held so little life in their hands, yet dared to dream and love and think all the same. 

All Siege knew is that occasionally he wished he could live as one for just a little bit—to feel that one day he would die, and he would have lived to the best of his ability. Instead, he was faced with the ever-approaching oblivion of his life, and all he could to not succumb to horror of it was march on. 

That was all they could ever do, he supposed.

He had made it to his room in the time he thought about life. Then, surrounded by the empty space of the Maze-Palace, there was something lingering inside him that wished to cower in the corner, consumed by what happened. 

Siege was detached from that part of himself. That was the part of him that was not a god. This part was scared of what it didn’t know, and what it could be hurt by. Siege fought daily to keep that part down, to drown it out, to stop thinking aboutwhathadhappenedinthosehundredyears—

He took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor, controlling his breathing as well as he could. His thoughts raced and he was overwhelmed by something and nothing all the same, and somewhere in the deity’s mind, all he felt was fear. 

Being in the palace, being in one of these rooms that he had curled up in before, powerless and utterly trapped… it was messing with Siege’s mind. He knew that he was deep in the mountain, consumed by hundreds of feet of rock, all waiting to come down and—

He stopped that thinking immediately. That was one of the tangents he often wandered along, fearing for the impossible worst. 

For now, he used one of the abilities he had been denied for years. Siege closed his eyes and focused. 

All along the corridors of the Maze-Palace were shadows, lack of light, the dark. This is what the god had been trapped in for so long, these shadows he knew intimately. His consciousness ran amok between them all, searching for the opposite of what he was. 

Light. 

There—up a few flights of stairs, a few turns both left and right, was the entrance to a courtyard. It was night time, the outside dominated by (most likely, seeing as it was winter) only stars and snow. Siege stood, dusting himself off and pretending as if he hadn’t been reduced to huddling on the floor. 

He took the path to the courtyard, along the way reaching out and touching the shadows he had held for so long, and then abandoned. He had no shadow himself, but these seemed to cling to him, lovingly and dangerously all at once. The walk was longer than the one he had taken earlier that night, the path different as well.

This path was much more worn, however. The walls were adorned with art, both whimsical and nonsensical, portraits of people were surrounded by silly paintings that Siege couldn’t help but looking at in amusement. It looked like this part of the palace was more lived in, the people decorating to lighten up the dark halls. 

Siege walked past a closed door that spilled light through the cracks between it and the floor, pausing after hearing a voice. 

“Marce, you’re saying you left this god, who was trapped in this palace for centuries, ALONE in a room? When he probably has weird PTSD surrounding this whole situation?” The voice was distinctly feminine, and despite never hearing her before, Siege would bet it was Scarlett. 

There was a deep sigh. “Ugh, I know, I feel pretty bad about it… but I mean, he needs to be close. Would you guys actually be comfortable living near someone with his sort of powers?” This voice definitely belonged to Marcellus. Siege wasn’t really surprised to hear him speaking in a less formal dialect, but he was sort of relieved to hear it. 

Scarlett laughed, “You have powers just like his, dude. Are we uncomfortable with you?”

Siege left after this, a part of him happy knowing that he could possibly be accepted within the king’s circle, but he shunned the fact that he wanted to be accepted. That was not the way a god should be. 

His walk continued after this, yet with every step the palace grew colder. Siege pulled his cloak closer to himself, fighting to keep in warmth. He knew that at a certain point the cold wouldn’t affect him at all, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. 

Siege came to a part of the palace that clearly used to be a wall. However, where the wall used to be were windows as high as the ceiling, letting the cold easily seep through. There was a single door that led outside, which Siege stepped through. 

The cold hit him, numbing the god. Everything was blanketed by snow and the air was thin. He was in a clearing, Mount Timoris’ jagged peaks closer than he had ever seen them before. There were evergreen trees coated in a fine coating of snow, and Siege realized that there was indeed snow coming down lightly. After taking a few steps, Siege realized he could see the entirety of Timoris at his feet, lights shining in the way only this everlasting city could, immortal in the best way.

If anyone had seen this moment, they would have seen Siege, the god of dark, smile for the first time in a very, very long while. 

Siege hadn’t gone to the meeting, but from the look on Marcellus’ face, things had gone well. The god had chosen to lounge on the common room shared by the king and his Hierarchy, waiting for them to get back.

The king looked taken aback after seeing him, but a small grin played on his face shortly after. Siege wondered if perhaps Marcellus knew he had been behind the door that other night. 

“In case you’re wondering, Siege, you worried for nothing,” the king stated matter-of-factly. His brown eyes glittered.

Sighing, Siege closed the book he had been reading. “How so? What happened?”

Marcellus motioned for the hierarchy to calm, and multiple of them collapsed happily into nearby armchairs and sofas. Siege’s eyes were drawn to the gauntlet as the king sat on the opposite end of the couch as the god, propping his feet up on an ottoman. 

The gauntlet moved as if it were a part of Marcellus’ body, not just a weapon to take on and off, and Siege belatedly realized that it really was a part of him. There was no seam where dark blue skin met silver, instead, the two melded together into one. 

Marcellus’ voice drew Siege back to attention. 

“Zachariah was obviously used as leverage in this situation, but that information you gave me on Jackdaw influenced her to an even greater degree…” Marcellus leaned further back into the couch, obviously getting comfortable.

“I didn’t necessarily namedrop her into the conversation, but implying that I knew she kept another captive god was enough.” He grinned, teeth sharper than most people’s. “You should have seen the look on her face!” 

Eli chuckled from the bar near the common room’s kitchen. “That was when we knew we had her under our thumb.” His accent rolled smoothly over vowels, but it seemed that in this language, the consonants troubled him. 

The large man uncorked a bottle of wine, and Marcellus turned his entire body to face the bar. “Oh God, can you please pour me a glass? I deserve it.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes from where she sat, swaddled in a blanket on top of an armchair. “For doing what? Talking?”

Siege listened to the pair squabble, and for once thought that maybe he enjoyed their company. 

Marcellus had set about creating a plan for their trip to Lyre, detailing the paths taken and what cities they would travel through. It was surprisingly in-depth, and Siege suspected the king knew more about the country than he had let on. 

Siege had been tasked with finding where Jackdaw rested, which was a job that he had not expected to receive. The fact that Marcellus trusted him enough to bring them to another deity was unexpected, but somewhere in Siege, he grew warm. 

They left on Adrei 29th, which happened to be Divday. That day held a certain bitterness for Siege—a day dedicated to his father, a god that took more than gave. 

Their journey began with a teleportation journey to their new base in Lyre. It had originally been Ellis’ base, but as soon as she vacated the country her items had disappeared with her. The room was empty when they landed, and Scarlett was the first to step out of the circle that had transported them there. 

“God, this place needs some shitty art.” 

Marcellus laughed, following her into the center of the room. It really was barren, walls and floor a simple and clean stone. There were no signs that anything alive had ever stood in the room. 

“You’re absolutely right, though…” the king snapped his fingers, the sound reverberating oddly in the room. With a second, objects materialized out of thin air. Siege didn’t know what sort of magic was used, but nevertheless, it was impressive.

Maps and diagrams lined one part of the wall closest to them, a perfect replica of the War Room, as Siege had heard it called. There was no war (at least, Siege hoped to Splinter there wasn’t), but the name stuck. 

In front of the Hierarchy was a large sitting area, enough seats to keep everyone off each other’s laps. Besides that, the only other things that appeared was more colorful and sometimes obscene art. 

Siege glanced at the king, noticing a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. This took a lot of effort, despite making it appear seamless. 

“Marcellus, are you sure you should be exerting yourself?” The god spoke, his voice the only sound besides the quiet conversations between members of the hierarchy. 

“What?” The king raised a hand to his forehead to wipe away sweat. He realized what he was doing and grinned sheepishly at Siege. “Oh, probably not. But I’ll be fine though, in a bit.”

Siege gazed at the boy, unsure of his next action. Deciding that he could leave it be, he nodded, heading towards the maps that now adorned the wall. 

Marcellus once again adopted that odd look on his face once Siege left. 

The king allowed Siege to lead their journey through Lyre. The country was just… empty. Cities with skyscrapers high enough to touch the clouds dominated the skyline, but even they rotted, no one there to take care of them. There were buildings that had fallen some time ago, the huge beams that made up their structure all that was still there. 

The hierarchy walked on as Siege listened to his shadows. He listened to them talk about seeing their world crumble, seeing the Wild take over once again. Their voices were joyous, and something about how they spoke about the people who once lived here rubbed Siege in the wrong way.

The shadows said they were glad the people who had lived here died. 

Siege knew he should be telling Marcellus this, because there was a chance that they were in danger. But these shadows (the dark) were influencing him. Maybe they were right? Maybe the people here had done something—

“Siege? What’s happening?” Marcellus said. 

All around them, as twilight descended, the shadows grew and morphed into shapes that Siege had hallucinated during his time at the palace. With this realization, the god was able to wrench himself out of the shadows’ grasp.

He turned to face the group, face pale from exertion. “Something here has twisted the shadows, they have some sort of pull over me, I don’t know how—” The king stopped Siege’s rambling. 

“Olde magic. This place…” Marcellus turned in a circle, eyes a little crazed. “It’s full of it!”

Siege had never heard of such a thing. “What?” 

“I’ve only just now put a name to it, but certain places that had been infused with magic for a long time end up twisting it somehow…” he trailed off, eyes up to the sky. 

“Technically, this place is alive.” 

That made complete sense to Siege. These shadows weren’t truly his, instead they carried a presence all their own, one that affected the god in a way not unlike Marcus’ power. It scared him. 

Marcellus’ eyes were on Siege now. “It fascinates me, how this is probably affecting you. I saw those shadows… what really happened?”

“I…” Siege wasn’t sure how to really respond. “They responded to me, of course… but after that, they just kept talking about how they were happy to be alone, how the people died here deserved it.”

The king nodded. “Is the first instance of it?” 

“It just amplified, like we’re close to something that’s causing it.”

“There are two things that can cause that. The first would be Jackdaw, her magic is probably the only thing about her that isn’t dormant. The second, less favorable option—” Marcellus paused, pointing at Salir and his sister, Suri. They stood at attention. 

“I need you to spread your senses right now. If, no, when you see the ball of light, steer us clear of it.”

Salir didn’t object to the orders, closing his eyes. Suri did the same, holding his hand. A low hum filled the air, one that Siege knew he heard only because he was a god. 

“We’re in the heart of this city. I don’t know the name of it, but I believe we are currently near the epicenter of the ruling family’s palace.” He kneeled, pressing the hand with the gauntlet to ground. “Their ward stone is probably the cause of the Olde magic. It has warped the wards that used to protect this palace.”

Suri’s eyes opened, and she spoke. “The ward stone is safely below us, but there is something odd about it.” She glanced at her brother, who still had his eyes closed, before speaking again. “It’s old, older than the palace. I can’t tell what runes it uses, but I don’t think it has runes that are anything like what the first king created.”

Marcellus stiffened a bit and cursed. “Fuck. Marcus may have made the first universal rune system, but these people created something else…” 

A strange breeze blew through their area. Siege suddenly noticed that everything around them was bent or broken—facing them. Buildings had all fallen to encapsulate this clear space. 

“I bet whatever is written on that stone caused all of this. However, now we know that Jackdaw isn’t in this city.”

There was silence as Marcellus held up his palm with the odd tattoo. With a sigh, he tapped it, and the hierarchy and Siege were transported back. 

It had been a month since the Ward stone had been discovered. The entire time Marcellus had been working in gathering an expeditionary team of magical archaeologists, but due to the stigma surrounding working with Lyre, it was exceptionally hard. 

The only people the king managed to scrounge up were young and vaguely inexperienced, but nevertheless, they had potential. 

One of these people was mostly known as an arms dealer, and Marcellus had originally gotten in touch with her through a very sketchy meeting in Kaorz. This meeting went extremely well, and not only had the king secured a supplier for his armies, but a new member of the Hierarchy. 

Exie Shroud was an expert in several types of magic, able to manipulate the elements and magic itself to create weapons and objects with unimaginable power. She was humble, however, and Siege had taken a liking to the girl.

“Honestly, I thought this whole ordeal would have taken a lot longer…”

Exie’s voice was smooth, she had a slight accent that caused her to have a lilt, mostly on words that ended with “R” and “Y.”

Scarlett laughed, “This whole group is a lot less lenient that Marce would have you think. By the way, have you met Siege?”

Exie’s gaze met Siege’s, and it took her a bit to realize who he was. 

“Holy shit, a god?”

Siege sighed. “We’re really not the beings you think we are, I promise.”

“I mean, you’re still super freaking powerful, Siege, you need to give yourself some credit.”

Bitterness washed over him. “Didn’t stop my father from fucking me up.”

It was at this time that Marcellus walked in. He winced, hearing Siege’s words. “To be fair, that was more Marcus’ fault. But hey, things are better now, right?” 

Siege supposed they were. He understood more about the mortals now, ad that part of him that always wished to die was… not as prevalent. He felt like he was actually part of a group for once in his life. 

“They are…” Siege paused, shifting from atop the counter he sat on. “Now, what are we going to do about Jackdaw?”

Marcellus’ eyes lit up. 

Their journey ended in a field. Marcellus had kept the group small this time, only enlisting Scarlett, Eli, Exie, and Siege’s help, explaining that it was taxing on him to transport so many people. 

They had traveled for a few hours quickly, hopping from one place to another as soon as Marcellus got a reading on how close they were. It was disorienting, at least to Siege, being pulled over and over again. 

“We have to stop here. The Olde magic is too concentrated, it would probably either collapse onto us if we tried again,” the king said. His eyes held that same crazed sheen as the time they were in the city, and Siege figured it was just how the magic affected him. 

However, their surroundings were vastly different from the time before. Now, they stood in a forest, trees taller than any Siege had seen before making everything on the forest floor dark. 

Siege couldn’t feel the oppressive air that accompanied the magic, but he trusted his king. 

Marcellus led them slowly and surely, and slowly light entered the forest. They were bordered by an immense field, beyond where they were there was no sight of anything taller than the grass. 

As soon as they stepped out into the grass (it was waist high, and knowing that there were all sorts of insects made Siege’s skin crawl), the sky turned pitch black. 

There was no moon or stars—an eternal night brought on by a sleeping goddess. 

Exie startled, but Marcellus’ hand was immediately on her arm, shushing her. 

“We need to be careful,” he spoke in a rushed whisper. “Lark must have set up some defense her, while I’m completing the ritual to raise Jackdaw, you four have to protect me.” 

Scarlett, who stood by the king’s side, nodded. She pressed her hands together in concentration, and her form began to change. Within a second, a large grizzly bear stood in her place. Marcellus leaned and scratched it’s head, causing Scarlett to give the king a dirty look.

Siege didn’t know why he didn’t consider what skills she brought to the table, but he was pleasantly surprised she was a Feraii. Their people were becoming harder and harder to find—thought the god was willing to bet that somewhere in her line she carried Gecko’s blood, hence the large form she had. 

He set those thoughts aside for later, brought to attention by Eli. He said no words, but the air around him crackled with energy. 

Exie had no fancy abilities like the others, but rather she rolled her shoulders, curls bouncing with the movement. She shot a smile at Siege when she saw he was looking. The girl clapped her hands together, separating them right before they touched. There, in each hand, was a pistol. It seemed she had tricks up her sleeve as well. 

Siege focused on himself. He drew his senses in before exploding them, throwing his consciousness into that eternal night. He felt that pull from the shadows, the pull that wanted him to give in, listen to them. This time, however, he expected it. The god was able to ignore most of what they said, but something bothered him. 

They chanted “Jackdaw,” over and over again in a monotonous tone. Siege wondered that perhaps these shadows had once been hers, taken and controlled by Lark after the incident that felled Jackdaw. 

It seemed like their preparation had been for naught.

Marcellus had only just begun the ritual, having cut himself and drawn runes on a slate he carried, when the ground began to rumble. 

In his ears, Siege heard the chant increase.

Jackdaw Jackdaw Jackdaw JackdawJackdawJackdawJackdaw

And then everything went quiet. Siege realized in a panic that he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’tfeelanythingbutthecold—

He stumbled forward, a sob stuck in his throat as suddenly light blinded him, much like when the light from that single rune so many years ago. 

There, in front of him, he felt something… feathery, winged, familiar. 

“Siege? How are you—it’s been so long…” The voice was high, one that he hadn’t heard in over a thousand years. 

He opened his eyes, not realizing they had been closed. He was in an area he had never seen before, a cavern that lacked any natural features. It was cold. But in the center of the cave was his sister, the goddess of night. 

She was short, almost child-sized, with poofy and birdlike hair that was a dark purple, matching the deep hue of her eyes. The color was not that was unnatural, however. She had large wings that burst from her back, purple and white and black. Jackdaw. 

“Holy shit, Jackdaw, we’ve been searching—”

The goddess cut him off, crossing her arms, a defiant look on her face. “You’ve been foolish, Siege. Lark designed my trap skillfully… You’re lucky that king is up there working towards getting both of us out.” 

She turned her dark, unnerving eyes towards Siege. “You would have been trapped yet again.”

Siege’s blood turned to ice as he remembered the stifling dark, the twists and turns of the Maze-Palace, the fear that he would never escape. 

The look on Jackdaw’s face softened and turned to worry as Siege froze. She rushed forward to catch him as he crumpled, the thoughts and feelings too much and too there. 

“Oh Siege, I’m so sorry, I just…” she wrapped her wings around the other god, offering some comfort as he spiraled. 

“You’re not there, my brother… I’m here, your king is above, freeing us..”

Siege heard her voice as if it was far away. All around him the shadows whispered to him, but he couldn’t make anything out, separated by a wall he could not scale. Their voices were acidic, targeting him for things he thought about himself. This he knew despite not being able to hear them.

His surroundings changed suddenly, causing the god to curl more into himself. Jackdaw’s wings retracted from him as she stood.

Sunlight reigned down. 

Jackdaw marched up to Marcellus and pushed him. “What the fuck did you do to Siege, Marcus? You made a promise to him—” She paused, looking up at the king. 

“You’re not Marcus.”

He scoffed. “He’s been dead for thousands of years.”

“How long have I been gone? I can’t remember much but her…” Jackdaw said, stepping away and rubbing her arms as if suddenly chilly.

Siege’s thoughts cleared when his sister had mentioned Marcus, and he was thrust back into the present. He stood, drawing Marcellus’ worried stare. 

“If you need time, Siege, you have it.”

The god shook his head. Jackdaw’s gaze followed him. “Jackdaw, you’ve been trapped in Lyre for over 3000 years.”

She suddenly realized where she was, turning in a circle to look around her. 

Siege realized that the field he had previously found empty has filled with the giant corpses of something—an animal. Birds the size of cars were dotted around the meadow, remnants of Lark and Jackdaw’s final battle. 

The goddess crumpled to the ground. 

“My children, my people…”

It had taken a while to console Jackdaw once she had seen what became of her children. The goddess sobbed into the earth, the sky rapidly turning from sunlight to pitch black midnight as she cried uncontrollably. 

Siege was the only one who could do something, as he understood what she felt, remembering what Elysian had shared with him years ago. That didn’t mean it was easy, however, as comforting someone did not mean to just share in their pain. 

Siege spoke in the Olde language, reminding her that she can create again, to renew what had been taken from her and destroyed. 

The goddess rose after that, her thin body still shaking from suppressed sobs. She didn’t look lost, rather, she was determined. The goddess turned to Marcellus and his hierarchy, who had stood by while Siege did what he could. 

“I understand you are planning on taking down him.”

In this case, Diverge was the him, the one who had tainted Lark and created Jackdaw’s pain. 

Siege watched as Jackdaw filled Marcellus in on what Lyre had once been. The two butted heads often due to their personalities, but they worked well together, creating plans for what to do with the land. 

Jackdaw wished to see people live there once again, but when Marcellus asked about who had ruled the country, the goddess adopted a strange look on her face. 

“I can’t… remember. I feel like I did know who ruled, but in my mind, all I can see are these reptilian eyes… a clear grey, unlike any other animal I’ve seen.” 

Marcellus wrote this down. “My archaeology team has found written records of something called the Iaga. It embellishes the Lyrean royal family’s coat of arms… but we’re not sure what exactly the animal is. We haven’t found the coat of arms yet; we haven’t gotten that far into the palace.”

“I must come with you the next time you plan a foray into the palace… I may remember something useful yet, and I need to see what has become of it.” 

Marcellus looked at her in concern, his voice betraying the emotion as well, “Are you sure? You haven’t regained your full abilities yet—”

“Hmph, I’m still plenty powerful, trust me on that,” the goddess said as she cut Marcellus off. “I know the limit of my powers, unlike Siege.”

The god of the dark flushed as he realized both Jackdaw and Marcellus’ gazes were on him. “What?”

“Siege, you’re the oldest son of Diverge, yet you haven’t explored your powers at all,” Jackdaw exclaimed. 

He flinched, remembering the times that power had been siphoned out of his body for Marcus to use. “I know exactly what I can do, Jackdaw. Believe me when I say that you do not want to see.”

A mountain cleaved in two, a crater the size of a star-shaped lake, a desert in the place of what was once jungle. Marcus’ worried face as he looked at Siege, who stumbled in a seat, his face ashen and tired. 

Marcus had taken the god with him the first time he used the power Siege had. 

“This is an experiment. There is a river here, and I wonder…” He turned to Siege, who stood behind him on a hill overlooking a plain. The older man was excited. 

Siege was not. He had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, worried that perhaps he wasn’t right to trust the new king of Alaric. 

“It would be beneficial to create a lake here instead, you see, so the people have a more reliable source of water for crops… maybe in a hundred years where we’re standing could be a city!” 

Siege smiled awkwardly at Marcus. He was still unused to the feel of the mortal language on his tongue as he spoke, “You have my powers to do what you want, my king.”

“I said you need not call me that, Siege,” he laughed. The king turned around once again, back to Siege. 

“Let’s start this now. I am impatient, I know, but this is just the beginning…”

As Marcus focused, Siege could feel a pull in the epicenter of his body. A burn started there as well, focused and intense. 

The feeing only got stronger. It took everything within Siege to keep himself from crying out—he knew that if he betrayed any discomfort, Marcus would stop. Siege wanted to be useful for the mortals, he wanted to be revered. 

The burn turned into pure pain, and silent tears streamed down Siege’s face. Still, he made no sound, and Marcus focused the god’s power through himself. 

There was a moment in which it was like the sun had gone out, darkness overwhelming the world in an instant. 

And then it was gone. The river they had looked over had disappeared, in its place a massive crater in the shape of a star, water pouring in from the rivers that had joined together. Siege didn’t this, however, and he stumbled backwards. 

Marcus turned, a look of satisfaction on his face before it morphed into extreme worry. The god fell. 

Siege blinked away the memories, attempting to smile at the pair in front of him. Thoughts and emotions swirled within the god, and though he knew that the man (since when had he been a man?) in front of him was not Marcus, somewhere deep inside him he felt that same fear as he had with the King Who Could Have Been. 

He hated seeing the concern on his face, when he caused the pain. When he could have stopped using the power, draining Siege of who he was.

The god knew that if he hadn’t been drained by Marcus, if Marcus hadn’t been drained by the extraordinary power flowing through him, that Diverge would not have been able to take over. Everything would have been different if he had just—

Siege took a deep breath, thoughts subsiding as the fog lifted. 

“I created the lake in northwest Alaric, I created Mt. Timoris’ highest peak, I even created the desert that lies north of where we are,” Siege felt emotionless as he spoke. 

Marcellus looked at him with a new light in his eyes, the same look that Marcus had when the chance to use Siege’s power came up. It scared him. 

“Siege, I want you to know that whatever Marcus did then is not going to happen again,” Marcellus said. His voice was soft, calming besides what he had just said. The words resonated within Siege, intensifying as their meaning hit him. 

“Then—then why am I here? I thought I was going to be a conduit again—Marcellus, what do you want from me?” It came out more forceful then he had meant it to be, but if anything, it drove his point forward. 

Marcellus looked uncomfortable while Jackdaw looked at him in question. “Answer him.”

“I had originally planned to use you, I will admit.” He was unabashed about this, but continued on. “But that day in Isle Siege, when I discovered what truly happened with Marcus…”

The king’s word did not falter. “I was prepared to be the villain. I thought that was what Marcus had been, and if he had been successful that way, because he’s remembered, then I could be too.” 

This didn’t surprise Siege. He saw how Marcellus had been then, how he had prepared to be cruel and ruthless about the lives in his hand, but he had changed since—for the good. 

“Just know that I am honest now, though I may not have been at first. You will be safe in these halls.” 

That last sentence struck Siege. Since his time of captivity, he had always been on edge in the Palace Timoris, uneasy with being there again. Perhaps with the affirmance that it could never happen again he would finally begin to heal. 

Siege was an official member of the Hierarchy after that, alongside Jackdaw. He had private quarters near the king, full access to the common room, and even the ability to travel back and forth between Isle Siege and the palace. 

But during the time since then, things had been moving slowly, and Siege realized Marcellus had not been aging. He did not recall Marcus aging either, however, but then he had just assumed it had to do with Diverge’s influence. In a quick decision, Siege gathered his things into a bag (the same one that had once carried the gauntlet) and went to find the king.

He found Marcellus in Marcus’ old quarters, already working on a bottle of liquor that sat on the desk. 

Siege cut straight to the point, blunt as always. “Marcellus, why aren’t you aging?”

The man in question currently had his head in his arms on the desk, not very aware of his surroundings. 

“You can call me Marce, y’know, like everyone else does,” the king grumbled. He finally sat up, looking at Siege. His eyes didn’t betray the usual sharpness he had, rather, he looked as if he was attempting to numb himself. 

“I will not. Your name is regal. Would Marcus have gone by Marc? Obviously not.”

The king sighed at that, deciding to leave the topic alone. He went back to Siege’s first question, answering as if he didn’t really know either. “After I brought Cassie back—”

Siege tilted his head, as he did often. “Cassie?”

The king flinched. 

“My sister. We… we weren’t close, but she died back where we came from. I found a ritual and…”

Siege understood. Magic was fickle and rarely understood. It differed between worlds, some supporting and fostering growth, others stamping out any magic. There was no explanation to this, but because of the system, certain incredible things were possible.

Marcellus had brought Cassie into this world.

“That was only the start. Around that time, Enzo and Belle became Ascended, leaving me behind.” His stare was blank. 

Siege was not familiar with those who Marcellus had named, but he did know about the Ascended. 

They ruled Jeraii through a council. The members of this council had all undergone numerous rituals to become something they called “Ascended,” a subspecies of humanity. They would then be gifted with multiple abilities, though along the way many became inhuman, almost twisted. 

“I didn’t have anyone. Cassie was angry at me for bringing her back, she didn’t understand. When she left for Belle, I was truly alone. They granted me access to the libraries in the Ascended headquarters. There, I found another ritual.”

A nasty smile adorned Marcellus’ face. He made eye contact with Siege for a second, then raised the hand the gauntlet was not on. 

Along his fingertips ran a substance that flickered in and out, jumping and twirling in the air. 

Magic. 

“I became Descended and claimed that throne. I was chased out of Jeraii… They probably have a bounty on my head. I dare them to try,” Marcellus said. He extinguished the magic he had conjured, leaning back in his chair. 

There was a pause. 

“Wow, that was really intense. Fuck Belle and Enzo,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Siege stared at the wall, the desk, and finally Marcellus. “Who are they?”

The king sighed, leaning forward pressing his head against the wood once more. His voice was muffled. “They were my best friends as a kid, we did absolutely everything together… I used to sneak over to Enzo’s all the time to play Mario Kart and Smash Bros. Look at us now!” He laughed bitterly, not moving from his position.

“What really happened?”

There was a garbled mixture of a groan and “ugh.”

Siege pulled a chair from the side of the room, sitting across from Marcellus. “It can’t be that bad. Maybe you could reconnect?”

“God no, never. The day after I completed that last ritual sealed my fate. At least, when they found out what I had done it did.”

Siege prodded forward, “Is that the full story?”

“Nah. Belle and Enzo confronted me about it first, asking why I did what I did. They didn’t understand, they were upset that I didn’t wait for them to coerce the council into letting me become Ascended as well.” He sat up again, this time moving around the desk to pace. 

Siege tucked his legs under the chair so Marcellus wouldn’t trip. 

“Who knows how many years that would have taken… I’d probably be old as hell by then, at the very least. Now, we’re on equal terms, I have a millennia to screw them over,” Marcellus said in a rushed tone. 

Siege pondered telling him that Marcus had already lived longer than any other mortal, but decided against it. He would learn eventually. 

Marcellus’ voice grew louder. “Enzo didn’t even invite me to his wedding,” the king announced. “I knew Ozias, too… it’s just a whole mess…”

He plopped down into an armchair that stood by a bookshelf, facing Siege. 

“Is it childish of me to still hold this grudge? Should I attempt to make the connections again?” he asked, hands on his face, elbows holding him up as he almost shrank into himself.

Siege thought back to when he had first found Marcellus, when he had no idea who Siege was. He had been on the verge of killing himself, believing no one in the world could or would love him. 

“No. They don’t deserve you.”

Marcellus looked up, and with slight shock Siege realized he had been crying.

“Thank you, Siege.”

Marcellus woke up to Eli knocking on his door. The king silently groaned, sitting up in his bed before getting up completely. He answered the door uncaring of the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Eli sighed at Marcellus; the king was notorious for taking his sweet time in the morning, despite the fact he was a king and had duties. 

“I’ve gotten news from one of the ambassadors in the west, in a town close to Malva… there’s been an incident, everyone in a town was slaughtered—something is stalking the shores.” Eli said this all in one breath, eager to get it out. “It happened after one of the Ilyis.”

An Ilyi is a particular sort of storm that plagued that area, magical in nature. Marcellus rubbed his face, still sleepy, but worried as well. “I’ll get dressed, you and I will set out quickly. Ready Exie too, we’ll probably need her skills.” 

Closing the door, Marcellus sighed and grabbed his traveling clothes. They were relatively plain, designed to not get in the way when magic was used, as well as to not get caught on the gauntlet. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if something were extremely wrong.

-

When they reached the island, the air was stale. It smelled not of the sea, as it should have, but rather, death filled their senses. 

The port was empty, seagulls swirling above. There were no signs a storm had passed through this area, but that was relatively normal—as the storms that plagued this area were anything but commonplace. 

They swirled with magic built up in the atmosphere, winds with the power to both heal and kill, rain that could melt through bone or cleanse people of their worries. It was a life of chance to live in an area where these occurred often, but the people made their life out of it. 

The sea was rich in this area, leading to an excellent income for people, regardless of the fact that they could walk outside one day without a care and never come home. 

But today there was no bustling fishermen manning their ships, or even people who lived in town out and about. 

Eli, Exie, and Marcellus shared a look with each other before proceeding cautiously. They decided to head in town first, following where the gulls ahead took them. Marcellus expected the worst, fearing that stories the he had read of what the storms could do had some semblance of truth.

It was at the first glance of the town square that those fears came true. 

Exie was the first to react, the stench and sight causing her to empty her stomach as she doubled over, retching. 

Bodies of people were strewn about the square, a monument to the founder of the city in the middle covered in bloodstains. There were those of all ages slaughtered, no mercy given to the children, their eyes (if still there) lay blank, looking towards the heavens. 

Exie was in tears as she managed to speak, “Wh-what could have done this?”

Marcellus kneeled, pressing the gauntlet to the earth. Magic flowed lazily through the air, and the echoes of screams and crying filtered past his ears as he focused. There was more, something growling, a man crying out, “Logan!”

This marked the end of what he wanted to hear. 

Looking up towards Eli, who looked sick but managed to hold himself together, he sighed. “Someone did this. I think… they must have been a victim of one of the Iyli, this probably isn’t their fault. At least… we can hope.” 

“I had no idea that those storms could—” Exie’s voice stopped midsentence as a scream pierced the air, louder than they had ever heard before, an edge of pain and distress twisting the sound to inhuman qualities. 

The trio froze, listening as it ended suddenly. Marcellus motioned to them to proceed behind him as he stood. 

They were careful as they stepped around bodies, disturbing only the flies that covered the bloodied flesh. The sound of the insects was a roar in their ears, growing more concentrated the farther into the city they got. 

It was with horror that Marcellus realized that there had been a celebration going on. Whatever (whoever?) had done this chose the worst time—people poured into the streets with the intent of having a good time, all to be torn apart where they stood. 

Another scream sounded in the direction they headed, and it was obvious this time that it was not just another murder.

They hurried through the streets, the corpses of the town’s people becoming less frequent as they went. Soon, they saw a figure in the middle of a road. Exie conjured her weapons without a word, looking at Marcellus for directions.

Marcellus approached alone. He waved to Eli and Exie to stay put, needing to see for himself what this person was. 

There, in the street, was a girl stuck between two forms. Her skin bubbled and changed rapidly from slick fur to human skin and back, bones underneath the skin being forced to grow and break as the two forms battled to take over the girl. Her breathing was labored, organs within her body most likely mutating just as the rest of her was. 

Exie hadn’t listened to the king, coming to stand beside him. Her eyes were filled with pity as she looked at Marcellus with a question her eyes, leveling one of her pistols at the girl/creature’s head. 

“No,” the king said softly. He held the Gauntlet out, the pulsing red stone on the palm open to the sky. 

Slowly, as he looked intently at the stone, he brought his fingers into a fist, the motion somehow bringing peace to the thing in front of him. Her shifting calmed, her human form becoming more dominant, body clear of most beastly features. 

The king fell to his knees, the exertion of the magic taking its toll. Exie worriedly put a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly asking to help, but the king waved her away. He closed his eyes finally, and the girl’s breathing evened out as if she had fallen asleep. 

He looked at the girl as he took his time standing, obviously tired, fatigued even though it was before noon. 

“Her name is Logan. I trust you two to bring her back, but I have more to do here,” he said slowly, looking at Eli, who had finally approached. He nodded at the king, bending down to pick up the girl. 

He dwarfed her, 6’5” versus someone who was most likely under 5’6.”

Exie turned her head between Marcellus and Eli as if unsure of what she should do. With a pointed look at her, Exie sighed and moved next to Eli. “Be careful, Marce.

The king nodded. 

With a glance back at Marcellus, who stood alone, Exie and Eli started off.

-

Marcellus Siege stood at the end of the pier, watching a storm brew in the distance. Instead of lightning flashing its normal white/yellow light, flares of red and purple flashed in the dark, angry clouds off in the distance.

The color of Alaric’s flag. 

He sat down, legs dangling above the rough waters, still watching the storm. He thought of what he saw when he jumped across Lairnx, across worlds, and remembered the bodies that had lay strewn about as if they were toys.

They resembled each other in a way that haunted Marcellus, and as if he wanted to know the truth about these storms, and why he saw what he did, the king stayed. 

The storm got closer. 

Something was wrong. Siege watched the king withdraw more every day, neglecting to even greet the hierarchy as they lounged in the common room. His eyes, when he met Siege’s, were distant and dull.

The few times Siege had heard him talk his voice was monotonous, single syllable words all that he spoke. 

There was no way that Siege could approach him without the king reacting negatively he knew, but at the same time a part of Siege feared that something dire was in progress, that this was important.

But it seemed he was too late. Marcellus called the Hierarchy together late one evening, not leaving any option to not attend. 

The king’s skin had lost some of its glow, and the crimson substance within his horns swirled quickly and rapidly, as if he were uneasy. “I have decided to disband the Hierarchy from this day on.”

Immediately following there were outbursts of denial and shock, Scarlett herself one of the angriest. 

“What the fuck, Marce? You think that you can just get rid of us now? Did we fulfill our only purpose?!”Her voice was the loudest, hitting the king as if it were an arrow. He looked at her, pain flashing on his face before he forced the emotion behind a mask. 

He crossed his arms. “I am saying this as your King, not your friend. My decision on this final. Tomorrow morning you will find a sum of money in your accounts as payment for your service, and I have set up places for you to go when you leave. I… I am grateful for what you have all helped me with, but I believe the next chapter of my rule I must take on my own.”

He ended on a strange note. Silence reigned as he refused to meet anyone’s eyes, steadfast in his decision. 

Siege felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer in his chest. For the first time in his long, long life he had a home—and now it was ripped from underneath his feet. In a rare moment of absolute fury, Siege closed his eyes and allowed the shadows around the room to swell and cover him.

The next second revealed that the god was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> did it suck?


End file.
